Xion Island Zero: Chapter 46

Kelvin crouched beside Nash. ‘He’s in good hands, Si. They’ll help him.’

Nash shook his head. He’d seen enough to understand what was happening. The Christmas lights crossing the road above them blinked, cheerful and cruel.

Nash loved Kelvin, and Jay was a young fool who was dying in Nash’s arms. He didn’t stop to read the situation. He’d barrelled in to save Kelvin’s life and didn’t know the kids were ready to give it up. He’d gone in a hero—misguided and stupid, but brave. Nash was proud—and he was so angry that he wanted to shake Jay until his teeth rattled.

He would have made a great detective. Nash already thought in the past tense. Blood soaked through Jay’s shirt like red ink on blotting paper.

It happened so fast. Nash saw it playing out, but couldn’t get there fast enough to stop it. He looked up, frantic, searching for his lover. ‘Kel? You all right?’

Kelvin nodded. ‘Fine. Just bruised. See to Jay and your team. They need you.’

Kelvin knew the score. They shared a raw, wordless moment when love was stripped to loyalty and duty. Nash turned back to Jay and watched the medics working on the jagged wound in his chest.

Kelvin’s voice broke on Nash’s name, a rough sound, heavy with his Nigerian accent. In his sorrow, it flowed in a strong lilt without Kelvin’s effort to refine it. Only Nash heard him above the commotion. It tethered him to that space.

The medics didn’t remove the knife because it would bring certain death. Was that hope?

A medic shook his head above Jay’s eyeline.

No. There was no hope. But he wasn’t dead yet.  

Jay’s breath was shallow. His eyes fluttered like the wings of a dying moth.

A siren wailed and cut off, leaving them all in an abnormal state of shock. Nash felt the heat draining from the boy’s skin and wanted to press his warmth into Jay.

He found Nash’s eyes, grabbed stillness from his demeanour, and smiled. ‘Hey, boss.’

There was nothing Nash could do, and the medic said. ‘Talk to him and keep him still.’ It was all he had to offer. 

‘Don’t talk,’ Nash snapped at Jay, applying fresh pressure. His hand was slick and useless. ‘You’re fine, lad.’

Jay’s smile was soft. The one he saved for Keeley. ‘Don’t lie to me now, boss. You never have before. I saw the look on your face, and you’re a rubbish liar.’

‘Listen to me.’ Nash felt tears spring into his eyes, and he blinked them away. They’d only frighten the kid. ‘Stop being a drama queen. We’ve got a new case coming in, and I want you on it. So get your act together. You hear me?’ Nash heard Keeley screaming. Brown was holding her back, and Nash nodded for her to come.

‘Yeah? You need me? Can I lead?’ Bowes asked.

‘Pushing your luck, boy. But yes, sure, you’re ready to lead a case.’

‘Now I know I’m in trouble.’

Jay coughed. It was a wet, death rattle. Blood flecked his lips, and his eyes were too calm. Keeley knelt on his other side and sobbed over him, clutching the zip of his jacket as though she could hold him in place. ‘You said he should buy a new jacket,’ she whispered to Nash. There was accusation in her voice as her fingers snagged on the broken teeth of the zip. Nash realised she meant the jacket that just an hour ago Nash had pulled Jay up about. ‘Haven’t you got a blazer, or something?’ he’d said.
‘Er, no. Haven’t you got a Zimmer frame, or something? I always wear my leather.’

‘Exactly,’ Nash had said. ‘You look like a ’70s throwback to an old cop show.’

‘It’s a cool look.’ Jay had pulled up his collar, and Nash had shaken his head and walked away. He wished he’d told him just how cool he looked.

He was pulled back to the moment by the sound of Keeley’s crying. He glared at her over Jay’s head. ‘Be strong for him, girl. That’s what he needs now.’

‘Promise me something,’ Jay whispered.

Nash shook his head. ‘No. I’m not promising anything until you stand up and talk to me man to man.’

‘Promise me you’ll still get married.’

‘No.’

‘Nash. Promise.’

 The same word came out on a sob. ‘No.’

‘I need you to dance the Macarena for me, Nash.’

Nash choked. ‘You idiot, I’d never be seen dead doing that. Not unless you lead it.’

Jay grabbed his wrist. He was fading. It was urgent. ‘Promise.’ He gurgled, and blood poured out of his mouth.

Nash’s throat closed. ‘I promise, son.’

Jay closed his eyes.

He didn’t open them again.

Keeley screamed.

Nash’s world froze.

The sounds fell away—the sirens, the shouts, the gasps. He knelt on the cold pavement, cradling Jay’s body, and the crowd gave him space. His chest heaved. He tilted his head and let out a barely human sound.

Behind him, Keeley broke free of Kelvin, who had moved her away from her boyfriend’s body. She tried to crawl back to him, but this was a crime scene now.  Brown intercepted her, but like before, Nash said, ‘Let her come.’

Keeley collapsed beside Jay. Brown pulled off her coat and draped it over the body, her face pale and hard in the Christmas lighting.

‘Contamination of the scene,’ she said. Her voice was hoarse. She’d been to the same school as Jay and had known him longer than any of them. Nash knew she was holding it together until the second she was alone, and then she’d crumble into a million pieces. He looked around for Danny and was glad to see him on the sidelines. He let Brown do her job, but made sure she knew he was there.

‘Stand down, Brown. There are enough witnesses to testify,’ Nash said. His voice was hollow.

The street was filled with flashing lights and horrified faces. Police who’d been dining with them added to the chaos. The four boys were rounded up, and Renshaw said they’d been arrested, cuffed, and taken away.

None of it reached Nash.

Keeley sobbed beside Jay, her body shaking. Molly wrapped her in her arms, whispering something inaudible that only they could hear. Renshaw stood behind Nash. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he clenched his fists. ‘Why?’ he kept saying. ‘The bloody idiot,’ but nobody knew if he was talking about the victim or the perpetrator. Patel called for Bill Robinson, and Kelley Norton let her initial flood of tears subside and sat through it like a ghost. She was clinically shocked.

Nash didn’t move for the longest time. He stayed with Jay as every piece of evidence was bagged. He owed Jay that. When Jay’s body was taken for autopsy, and the pavement had been hosed down, Nash walked to the car in a silence so thick it felt as oppressive as the blanketing fog. Kelvin drove without speaking, and the streetlights smeared a yellow haze across the windscreen.

He sat alone in his living room. His shirt was stiff with dried blood, and he swirled brandy in a half-pint glass. To hell with the pretension of his usual snifter. Bowes had laughed at him for that. ‘It drinks just the same out of the bottle, boss. And would be a damned sight more effective.’

‘You keep your thieving paws off my St-Remy,’ he’d said when Jay had come with the team for a late summer barbecue. ‘Until you can appreciate the subtlety of good brandy, you can stick to your cans of Strongbow, mate.’

The hurt in his side flared when he moved, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the sorrow caught behind his ribs.

Kelvin came in carrying two mugs of tea. He put one down and didn’t speak for a long time. When he did, his voice was soft. ‘Are you okay with company, or do you want me to go?’

Nash shrugged and nodded at the other chair. He realised he was being brusque and managed a tight smile.

‘You don’t need to do anything, darling. I’ll cancel the wedding,’ he said.

Nash stared into nothing.

Kelvin tried again. ‘No one expects us to go through with it now.’

Nash blinked.

Kelvin turned to him and tried to take his hand. ‘You don’t have to do anything.’

Nash jerked his fingers from under Kelvin’s. ‘I promised him.’

There was silence.

Then, absurdly, Nash said in a dull voice, ‘But don't you worry 'bout my boyfriend. He's a boy whose name is Vitorino.’

‘What?’ Kelvin stared at him. ‘What are you talking about? You’re scaring me, Si.’

 For a moment, Nash said nothing, and Kelvin leaned forward into the silence. Nash exhaled, his eyes filled with fresh tears, and he tipped his glass in a salute before draining the brandy like cheap cider.

‘Silas, talk to me.’

‘It’s the lyrics to the Macarena. I looked it up, and the words are as stupid as the ridiculous dance. I told Jay I’d dance it for him at our wedding.’

Kelvin managed a thin laugh. ‘You? Doing the Macarena? I’d pay good money to see that.’

Nash tried to smile and failed. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said. ‘However much it hurts. I’ll do it, because we’re alive. And he’s not.’

Kelvin took his hand, and Nash didn’t resist. They sat in the lamplight with their fingers entwined on Nash’s green office baize. Grief and love tangled through them, binding them in its vines.

And outside, the wind rose as Barrow mourned with them. The ocean roared, battering the shoreline and calling the name of a man who would never answer.